


About dead birds and national holidays

by sometimes_i_english



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Thanksgiving, Tumblr Prompt, stiles accidentaly burning shit down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this tumblr prompt: “i may look harmless but i’m hosting thanksgiving this year and I have a house full of hungry guests and no turkey so you better believe I’ll punch you in the fucking throat if you try to take the last one” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	About dead birds and national holidays

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't written anything in like a million years and this is me being a piece of trash and not studying for my International Economics midterm. Not Beta-ed, so any mistakes are mine, feel free to point them out.

It’s a fucking disaster.

 

Everything is a fucking disaster, this is the literal worst scenario, the one they warn kids about as they grow, that one parents use to scare the crap out of their adorable little monsters and get them to sleep.

 

“It’s really not that bad bro…”

 

“Shut up Scott!” Stiles’ voice might be a little-a lot-panicked, but whatever, the situation more than calls for it.

 

“Dude” Scott’s face appears between the rivulets of black smoke that _just won’t stop_ _coming_ from the stupid oven, the stupid oven where the stupid turkey for stupid thanksgiving was cooking perfectly not twenty minutes ago.

 

“What?!” Stiles snaps, and yeah, it’s not Scott’s fault and he might feel a little guilty afterwards, but right now? Right now Stiles is in the middle of his smoking kitchen at 10 in the morning, with at least twelve side dishes, about fifteen guests to arrive in a couple of hours, and _no fucking turkey_.

 

“This was a terrible idea” he mutters “this was the absolute worst idea, who the fuck let me host thanksgiving? Scott!”

 

And Scott is… Scott is dipping his nasty ass fingers in Stiles homemade cranberry sauce and really, Stiles could just kill him if it wasn’t for the trouble that cleaning blood is and how he has no time for that.

 

“Sorry?” yeah, he doesn’t look sorry at all.

 

“Just” Stiles hands and arms and everything moves in his very own uncoordinated fashion, managing to not drop anything, hit about three different cabinets, and not move Scott’s hand from where it dips again into the still-warm sauce “stop it!”

 

How did this even happen?

 

_How the fuck did this even happen?_

Oh yeah, because their oven hasn’t worked since the day they moved in and their asshole of a landlord refused to change it, and they’re also fresh out of college so their college entry level jobs don’t really make for much except for rent, food, and the basics.

 

 _Still_ , Stiles had wanted to host thanksgiving for all their friends and their-recently newlyweds-parents, he had trusted in the thanksgiving spirit to give his oven a little push in the right direction, nothing much, nothing too big, he HADN’T ASKED FOR A NEW OVEN FOR GOD’S SAKE.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry” Scott’s rubbing circles on his back and Stiles has just enough mind to hope it’s not the hand that was just in his cranberry sauce and then in Scott’s mouth.

 

“Let’s just go to the grocery store” he sighs cleaning snot on his hoodie’s sleeve “lets leave a window open and, hopefully, all this smoke will be gone by the time we’re back”

 

“Do you really need me to go?” Scott asks, he’s really not subtle as he eyes the stuffing.

 

“Yes, Scott” Stiles smiles way too sweet to be real “I need you to stay in the car as I brave the hordes of late shoppers to, and god help me in this, find a turkey”

 

“Are you sure you want to try and make another turkey in that?” Scott’s distrust for the oven is not welcomed, not unwarranted for, still not welcomed.

 

They have barely enough time to find a new, _unburnt_ , turkey, get back to their apartment, and cook it if they hurry up. Stiles is about 43.7% sure his dad wouldn’t really mind him breaking some traffic laws in their quest. It is a very important and valid one after all, they _are_ trying to save thanksgiving.

 

As he predicted, as he expected, as any thanksgiving day before this one, the store is absolutely packed. It doesn’t really help that they’re in Beacon Hills, where their selection of markets are the one where they’re at, or that super sketchy one at the edge of town. So, packed store it is. Stiles pulls his pants up, rolls his sleeves up, pushes the hair from his forehead back, and braves the store.

 

He’s sticky with sweat, not only his own, breathless, and bruised by the time he arrives at the frozen section. He scans the freezers, anxiousness eating up his stomach, and bam! There it is, the last fucking turkey.

 

He could cry.

 

Stiles could, honest to God, drop down and cry.

 

But there’s no time.

 

So he pushes some people, maybe an old lady, who knows, who cares (he’s pretty sure Mrs. Jerkins kicked his hamster when he was five and that’s why it died). Angels are singing, an almost real light shines upon that turkey, there’s even a trumpet somewhere in the distance, he stretches for the door, he’s so close, he can feel the frozen raw bird burning his fingers already.

 

And someone else’s hand crashes with his

 

Turning around he sees none other than Cora Hale, they went to high school together, never really got along.

 

“Stilinski” she says

 

“Hale”

 

“Want something?” her eyebrows are raised in mock innocence, anyone passing by would think she actually wants to help him.

 

“Yes actually” he answers in stride “that turkey over there”

 

“Oh” she says “what a coincidence” and she opens the door “I also came for this turkey”

 

She goes for the turkey, _his_ turkey, almost reaches it, but he closes the door and if she didn’t have amazing reflexes her hand might have had a pretty ugly bruise.

 

They look at each other for what feels like minutes, assessing the enemy, coming out with a plan to get that damn turkey will not be easy. Stiles knows Cora, as much as one knows someone they went to high school with and only acknowledge each other’s existence every once in a while.

 

Ok, maybe Stiles knows more about Cora because he saw her brother, Derek, when he came back from college for summers and holidays around town and nobody could blame a guy when faced with the beautiful trainwreck of a person that is Derek Hale. What with those muscles, and his height, and those adorable bunny teeth, as if that wasn’t enough, the man was genuinely nice, and painfully shy, and it was all so adorable and endearing and, yeah, Stiles might have a hard time looking Derek in the eye if they actually ever meet.

 

Anyway!

 

Stiles knows Cora, and she’s ruthless, merciless, coldblooded, don’t get him wrong, he’s all for strong women and feminism, but today, today he _needs_ that goddamned turkey and no human being, woman or man, will take it from him.

 

Cora sneers and goes for the turkey again.

 

And ok, Stiles might be gangly, and he’s not wearing his nice clothes, those Lydia says make his muscles (because he does have some muscle, excuse him) be there instead of just looking like whomever those clothes belong to is bigger than him.

 

Again, he closes the door. And this time Cora looks pissed.

 

“Look” she says, barely contained anger simmering under her voice “I need that turkey, it’s thanksgiving”

 

“You don’t say” he deadpans

 

It only earns him a glower.

 

“Listen Cora, I really, _really_ , need this animal. I have people coming over” his patience is starting to run thin and his self-respect is practically null anyways, he really is not above begging.

 

“And you think I’m gonna eat it on my own?” she throws back

 

Yeah, she might have a point there.

 

No matter. He saw the turkey first, it’s his turkey.

 

They go back to their staring contest, time keeps ticking by and Stiles is way too aware that if he doesn’t leave the fucking store in the next thirty minutes there won’t be appoint of him having any turkey because there won’t be enough time to cook it anyways.

 

This is taking way too long.

 

Cora lunges for the turkey again, and _that’s it_! Stiles has had enough, his first turkey burned down, his apartment will smell like smoke for the next three months, and he just wants to have a nice fucking thanksgiving damn it!

 

He shuts the door again and crowds close to Cora, or as close as he dares get without his eyes being ripped out of his face.

 

“I may look harmless but I’m hosting thanksgiving this year and I have a house full of hungry guests and no turkey so you better believe I’ll punch you in the fucking throat if you try to take the last one” he whispers in his most threatening voice, he thinks it’s partly successful because Cora just gapes at him, mouth open, eyes wide, the whole gaping thing.

 

The whole thing seems to be over, so he sighs and goes for _the fucking goddamned turkey,_ God, he’s gonna hate turkey so much after this.

 

“Did you just threaten my sister?” someone says from behind him.

 

The freezer door is semi open, the handle on his hand, and Cora just lunges and grabs THAT STUPID FUCKING DEAD BIRD.

 

Stiles looses it.

 

He throws himself at the woman. Or, he would’ve thrown himself if someone’s arms weren’t around his waist. So he thrashes and yells and snarls and hits whoever it is behind him with his elbows while simultaneously trying to attack Cora Hale.

 

Not his most proud moment.

 

Cora doesn’t even looked fazed by his display.

 

“Cora” someone, the someone that’s still holding him even though he’s too tired to move any more (he’s been cooking and baking since yesterday, sue him), says in what might be a warning tone.

 

“What?” she says “turkey is your favourite thing in thanksgiving”

 

The man simply sighs.

 

“Are you done?” he asks and it takes Stiles a moment to realize he’s being addressed

 

“I just wanted to make thanksgiving dinner for my friends” he mutters petulantly, maybe a little of the actual sadness of not being able to do it perfectly snakes into his voice.

 

“Cora” the man says again, and finally, finally, lets go of Stiles.

 

Who turns to only to trip in the face of the most perfect specimen of a man he’s ever seen. Derek Hale. It’s been about four years since Stiles last saw Derek, but Derek has, Derek looks really good.

 

His stubble is thicker now, his eyebrows are still the thing from legends, with his bright multicolour eyes and those bunny teeth Stiles has a weird obsession with.

 

In all his staring, blatant staring, Stiles missed whatever went through between the two Hales, but suddenly he is being handed a turkey by a very disgruntled Cora while Derek smiles softly at his younger sister.

 

“What” because Stiles is eloquent like that

 

“You can have it” Cora grumbles

 

…

 

“What”

 

Derek and Cora snort at the same time, and wow, ok, he doesn’t need two hot people mocking him on this particular day.

 

“It’s just the two of us” Derek says, and Stiles feels suddenly like every bit of the asshole he is, of course he knew there were no more Hales around, of course everyone knew of that hell fire from so many years ago.

 

“Sorry” he cringes as the word comes out, they’ll know what he’s apologizing for.

 

Cora just shrugs at him and turns to leave, Derek smiles at him before waving goodbye.

 

“Wait!” no one ever said Stiles’ self-preservation instincts were the sharpest “Do you happen to have an oven?”

 

And really, self-preservation instincts are overrated, because the smile Derek gives him is so brilliant and beautiful Stiles thinks he melts, literally melts a little.

 

Three hours and forty five minutes later finds them all in Derek’s apartment (It’s a loft Stiles), the warm smell of food in the air, the chatter of people filling the space between everything, and the familiar ache of belonging in their ribs.

 

“Thanks” Derek says

 

“Thanks for lending me your oven” Stiles shrugs, they’re a bit loose from the alcohol, happy with company.

 

“You can use it when you want, I don’t really…bake, or anything”

 

Stiles stares at the man, at this man he’s spent so many years just looking at and is suddenly next to him, all soft and happy because Stiles decided to fill his space with people he might not even like.

 

It fills him.

 

It fills him with a sense of pure joy, to have put that bashful look on Derek’s face, to have made Cora bicker with Lydia and playfight with Isaac. To have this start where Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were already part of Stiles and Derek’s life separately and now Stiles can be part of Derek’s life, in a sense, in a way. Because he’s not imagining it, he’s not drunk with want or desperate enough to imagine Derek touching his elbow and saying thanks in a quiet voice as he offers his oven for Stiles to just come and keep coming in his _living space_.

 

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I was like sixteen” he breathes out.

 

And Derek.

 

Derek just laughs, softly, Stiles is starting to think doing thinks softly is a thing of being older, maybe when he’s older he’ll learn to be less brash, to say thanks in a quiet manner and laugh with relief.

 

“Yeah” Derek says “Cora told me”

 

“Ugh” Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been this embarrassed in his life, maybe if he closes his eyes life won’t mock him so much.

 

“Would it make you feel better that I, as a college student, as someone six years older than you, worried about being a creep for having a crush on you since you were seventeen?”

 

When Stiles opens his eyes again, Derek is so close, crowding into his space, a question in his stance. Stiles doesn’t bother saying anything, just puts his hands somewhere on the other man and pulls, and pulls and pushes as their lips graze, as their teeth clash, as their breaths mingle and his heart beats so hard he thinks he might die.

 

Derek’s smiling as their kisses slow down, Stiles smiles with him and it gets in the way of kissing but neither of them can manage to care.

 

All in all, it really wasn’t such a disastrous thanksgiving.

 

(Stiles burns the thanksgiving turkey only once more, it was hardly his fault though, Derek had distracted him with one of the most amazing blowjobs he’s ever received)

 


End file.
